


Chasing Glory

by bioticsandheadshots



Series: Fictober: 2018 [8]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Not quite canon divergent, Pining, Pre-Canon, more like tweaked canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 16:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16308863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticsandheadshots/pseuds/bioticsandheadshots
Summary: Odette Cousland hates taking no for an answer. Especially when she knows she's right. The day before her father is to leave for Ostagar, she attempts to convince him of her rightful place at his side.





	Chasing Glory

**Author's Note:**

> For the Fictober prompt "I know you do".
> 
> I ended up getting about a week behind (for very good reasons!) but I am still working on these prompts.

Odette walks with her father, making their way through Highever to the practice yard. Though she trains every morning, today her father is coming along to observe her progress and she hopes that perhaps seeing her in action can convince him to change his mind about her place in the coming battle. Keeping her tone level, the very voice of calm reason expected of a Cousland no matter the circumstance, she makes her initial attempt to sway her father’s decision.

“I don’t understand why I can’t be the one riding with you to Ostagar. After all, Fergus is the heir to the teyrnir, not me. Better to leave _him_ in charge of the castle.”

Bryce laughs at his youngest. “I have no doubt you would prove yourself in battle, pup, but I am not willing to deal with your mother if you join the war.”

She frowns, casting a sidelong glance at him, certain this is a fabricated excuse. Eleanor Cousland had once been a famous sea raider, it’s how she and Bryce had met, after all. She, more than most, will understand the desire to fight rather than sit at home and wait for the men to return.

“I’ll speak with her. If she knows I’m going _instead_ of Fergus, rather than the both of us, I’m sure I can convince her.”

Not giving him the chance to object or point out that she would also need to convince her brother, she bounds into the training yard. As she pulls her daggers from their sheathes on her back, she sticks her tongue out at Ser Gilmore. He rolls his eyes at her, but she catches the tug at the corner of his mouth as he parries a sword thrust from a young recruit. She throws herself into her training, ignoring the sweat that drips into her eyes and the wisps of hair that free themselves from her ponytail. The knights jeer and jape with each other and Odette, having trained with them from the moment she could hold a dagger, joins in. When she’s in this yard, she’s one of them, not the noble lady of the house and that’s the way she likes it.

When she finally stops to catch her breath, her father is nowhere to be seen and she sighs. She’s finally managed to best Ser Derric, a beast of a man who favors a sword and shield. While there’s no doubt that news of her victory will travel through the castle, Odette would rather her father saw it firsthand. How better to convince him of her rightful place at his side in battle than with a hard-fought, well-earned victory?

“I hate this,” she groans, sliding her daggers back in their sheathes.

“I know you do. I’m sure your father had a good reason for excusing himself.” Rory shakes his head with a laugh, watching her smear the dirt around her face. “Here, you’re just making it worse.”

Odette freezes as he caresses her face (okay, he doesn’t caress but tell that to her stomach). Ser Gilmore has been her best friend for as long as she can remember but, only recently, Odette has started to notice how kind he is, to take note of the way his muscles ripple when he trains. They still joke and have at one another, but when he touches her, she remembers that she is a woman and he a man and wants nothing more than to find out if his kisses are as kind as he is or if he has a hidden passion locked away, like the knights in some of Oriana’s steamy romance novels.

Not that she can ever tell him that.

Oh, she flirts, of course, but she’s too much of a coward to ever make her silly advances seem anything more than good-natured teasing.

“Ettie, you still there?”

She startles and pulls her arm away from his grasp. “Of course I am. What, did you think I got lost swooning in those blue eyes of yours?”

He smirks and rolls his eyes again. “Go, find your father. If I know you half as well as I think you do, you’ve already got plenty more arguments to sway him into letting you ride with him into battle.” Leaving her, he joins some of the other knights and their squires in a far corner of the training yard.

Odette pauses to splash water on her face, as much to drive away these strange desires as to wipe away any remaining grime. She decides to seek out her mother first, convince her of the wisdom in Odette’s plan, so that the two of them can approach Bryce together as a united front.

“That was a fine display of skill.”

She looks up from the water barrel to find a man—one she has never seen before—beside her. His skin, several shades darker than her own, gleams like burnished copper in the gold of the mid-morning sun. Despite the wrinkles around his eyes and forehead, not a single strand of grey can be found in the black locks of hair tied at the nape of his neck. Sword and dagger are strapped at his back, the hilts of both weapons speaking to their craftmanship.

“Thank you, serah.” She shares a smile with him, pleased that this obvious warrior has recognized her talent.

“Duncan, please. You wouldn’t, by chance, be Ser Gilmore, would you?” His gaze has turned from admiring to curious, mayhaps even a little hopeful.

“Me, Rory?” She laughs. “Not even close. He’s got about eight inches and three stone on me. That redhead over there,” she points to the corner, “is your Ser Gilmore. Shall I call him over?”

“No, I can speak with him momentarily.” Duncan says with a shake of his head. “You must be Odette then, Bryce’s youngest. Forgive me, my lady.”

“I don’t fault you the mistake. You could hardly assume I’m a teyrn’s daughter dressed like this! You know my father then?”

“Indeed. Do you know where he is?”

“I was just on my way to find him. I would welcome your company. Perhaps on the way, you can tell me more about yourself.”

When she learns that he is a Grey Warden, one of the fabled warriors and heroes of old, her mind begins spinning. Perhaps he can convince her father _for_ her. After all, Duncan witnessed her talent and who better to speak on her behalf? If he hears how impressed Duncan is with her, he’ll have to let her fight in the coming battle.

If only she had known what such wishes would cost her.


End file.
